


Bad Habits

by Cawaiiey



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, Frottage, Kissing, M/M, Shotgunning, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 13:36:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15220286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cawaiiey/pseuds/Cawaiiey
Summary: Hanzo knows it isn’t good for him. But he still finds himself out on the edge of the Watchpoint, staring at the Alboran sea, nursing a cigarette every night. It’s a habit. A bad habit."Howdy,” a deep voice says behind him, just as smokey as the stick he’s got between his fingers.Speaking of bad habits.





	Bad Habits

**Author's Note:**

> Hi its been a while i finished something i hope y'all like it ty

Lazy smoke curls from the lit end of his cigarette up towards the night sky. Hanzo watches it dance higher and higher before it disappears. The evening is cold, but he hadn’t bothered to put a jacket on when he left his room earlier. His desire for nicotine in his system was more prevalent than the the weather outside. The chill nips at his exposed arms and nose, settling deep into his skin to wrap around his bones. The thin cotton tank top he has on does nothing to combat the cold.

He lifts the cigarette up to his lips and takes another drag. 

The pull burns. Ashy and sharp, it curls in the back of his throat, settles in his lungs. Hanzo knows it isn’t good for him. But he still finds himself out on the edge of the Watchpoint, staring at the Alboran sea, nursing a cigarette every night. It’s a habit. A  _ bad _ habit.

"Howdy,” a deep voice says behind him, just as smokey as the stick he’s got between his fingers. 

Speaking of bad habits.

Hanzo doesn’t bother turning to face McCree. He continues to stare out at the sea, at the moonlight dancing along the waves, and listens to his part-time lover’s familiar gait as the man makes his way to him. Jesse slots himself against Hanzo’s back and hooks his chin over his shoulder, arms winding tight around his waist as he pulls him impossibly closer. Hanzo goes with the movement more willingly than he’ll admit. 

“What’s a pretty thing like you doin’ out so late?” McCree asks him, lips pressing to the curve of his tattooed shoulder. He drags his mouth along his cold skin, blazing a heated path up his neck. Hanzo tilts his head to give him more space to work, silently delighting in the warmth that’s curling in his midsection just like the smoke off his cigarette. Jesse’s lips spread apart in a smile as he lingers on a patch of bruised skin.  _ His handiwork _ , Hanzo thinks as he sighs, feeling content for the moment as his part-time lover kisses his neck, open-mouthed and  _ hot _ . 

“Indulging in some vices,” Hanzo responds smoothly, resolutely ignoring the hitch in his breathing. He presses his hips backwards just as Jesse pushes further into him. He can feel his cock, thick and hard already, through his pants. Hanzo silently preens, enjoying the fact that he can rile up the cowboy so easily. He feels more than hears him grunt against his neck. The sound sends a jolt of arousal straight to his midsection, heat pooling there while his part-time lover grinds his cock into the curve of his ass. 

Gods, it’s lovely.  _ And dangerous _ , he muses, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip as Jesse’s teeth graze his neck and his tongue darts out to wet his skin. He doesn’t mind. Bad habits are still habits, after all. They bring him some sort of comfort, regardless of the danger they pose if he lets himself get too attached, too reliant on them.

Jesse kisses hotly up his neck and along the sensitive shell of his ear. One of his arms unwinds from around Hanzo’s waist, hand traveling up his side and down his arm until he can fit his fingers over his hand– the one holding the cigarette. “Would you mind indulgin’ me in some vices, baby?” He purrs in his ear. McCree’s teeth bite at his ear, igniting a delightful fire in Hanzo’s core, before his tongue darts out to soothe the bite. There’s a dirty promise in that tone, in those teeth grazing his skin, in his hips pressed firmly to his backside. It’s tempting, oh  _ so _ tempting, and yet...

He shouldn’t. It’s late. He has training in the morning and a mission briefing at seven. Hanzo knows he shouldn’t even be out having a smoke this late in the evening, let alone flirting with Jesse.

He can’t deny him though. Hanzo knows that already. He wants it just as badly as the cowboy does and Jesse  _ knows _ it. 

“Mm… perhaps I could be persuaded to retire early.” He murmurs, already succumbing to the arousal that is flooding his senses, deliciously electric. McCree’s fingers tighten their hold around Hanzo’s hand just as he thrusts his hips against his backside. Hanzo sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, eyes fluttering shut as he more than enjoys the way his part-time lover grinds his cock into him. He can only imagine how the other man would slide into him had there been less clothes and he’d already been prepped. As it is right now, all he does is grinds his thickness into the curve of his ass, a mere shadow of what he could do. It riles Hanzo up, especially considering how out in public they are… Anyone walking by would know what they’re doing in an  _ instant _ and by the Gods, sharp possessiveness and blinding arousal spike inside of him at the thought of being caught.

“That ain’t what I’m talkin’ about, Han.” McCree whispers in his ear before taking the lobe between his teeth and  _ tugging _ on it, causing all of Hanzo’s thoughts to come to a screeching halt.

_ What? _

Hanzo can barely think beyond desire, especially since Jesse is toying with the sensitive curve of his ear, let alone try to parse out what his part-time lover means by that. Humming in response, he shivers under McCree’s insistent ministrations. The grinding, the necking, the  _ heat _ that is ever present with Jesse’s presence _ –  _ all of it has him buzzing from more than just the nicotine.

Hanzo is as addicted to McCree as he is the tobacco. Both are dangerous. Both are likely going to shorten his lifespan. Both are things he can’t seem to get enough of. And both he indulges in more readily than he wants to, more eagerly than he’ll admit, even to himself. When it comes to McCree, though, he can’t truly be faulted… It’s not so simple as reaching into a pack of Marlboro’s and lighting the end of it. It’s a game they both play with each other, a dance he cannot do without a partner, and McCree eagerly participates in it, in  _ this _ . If he didn’t, Hanzo wouldn’t be addicted to it… To  _ him _ in the way that he is now. McCree is just as much at fault for this unfortunate bad habit he has as Hanzo himself is.

Jesse’s hand covering his squeezes, bringing him back to the moment. Hanzo hums and reaches back with his unoccupied hand, grabbing for McCree’s hip blindly.  _ More _ , he wants  _ more _ , and Jesse will give it to him, he  _ always  _ does. Hanzo wouldn’t even care if he took him right here, right now, overlooking the Alboran sea, while the moon pays silent tribute to their sordid affair. 

That doesn’t happen, although Hanzo’s sure he’s fantasizing about it vividly enough that McCree must be able to hear his thoughts. Instead of indulging him, his lover shifts. The cigarette he’s holding loosely between his fingers is plucked from his grasp by a set of metal fingers he knows intimately by now from how often they’ve grabbed and pulled at him, his hair, his clothes. He’d forgotten about it until that very moment. Twisting in the circle of his arms, he’s prepared to demand for his cigarette back, when he catches sight of the sly look in Jesse’s half-hooded amber eyes.

“Wha–”

Hanzo cuts himself off as he watches McCree reverently, waiting for what he’ll do next. A pleased smirk curls his full lips and Hanzo feels his knees grow weak at the sight. His lover taps the ash off to the side, eyes locked with his, and then brings the smoke to his lips. Slow, methodical, they part to accommodate the stick. Hanzo watches the embers at the end flare red as Jesse takes a drag off of it. He wants to be that cigarette right now, between McCree’s lips, in the heat of his mouth, needs it so badly he  _ aches _ . 

Jesse’s flesh hand finds its way into the hair on the back of Hanzo’s head. He hadn’t even felt him move, but there it is, threading through his loose hair and pulling him forward. Hanzo goes with it, eagerly, readily, as everything he does with McCree tends to be. He lets him tilt his head, lets him manhandle him forward, and then a pair of familiar lips press against his.

Hanzo melts into him, opening his mouth without a second thought.

_ Shotgunning _ . That’s what this is called, if he remembers correctly. The term doesn’t really fit how absolutely  _ amazing _ it is for the smoke McCree is holding in his mouth to be pushed into his while Jesse slides his tongue forward as well. Ashy, sharp, nicotine-filled smoke mixed with Jesse’s talented tongue, the scrape of his beard against his, the warmth of his body, the low noise he makes in the back of his throat when Hanzo scrapes his teeth against his tongue– it’s all so horribly addictive that Hanzo fears how quickly he’ll make  _ this _ into a habit. 

They inevitably have to part, at least for a moment, to suck in clean air and get their bearings, but Hanzo doesn’t let McCree get very far. He watches the transparent remnants of smoke from Jesse’s drag curl out of his lover’s mouth and disappear into the night air. The cigarette has burned down almost completely at this point. He can see it between the metal fingers of Jesse’s hand, a mere stub now. Hanzo may indulge himself with one a night but he won’t let himself have any more. Having a minor nicotine addiction is bad enough as it is, no need to make it worse by having another cigarette. 

He’s got another bad habit that’s less  _ dangerous _ to indulge in, though.

“I liked that,” Hanzo says quietly. He slides his hand down the curve of Jesse’s metal arm, watching the coy, pleased look on his lover’s face as he travels down his bicep and forearm to where the cigarette butt is between his fingers. With a twist of his wrist, he knocks it out of McCree’s hand and threads his fingers with his in its place. “Are there any other vices that you were looking to indulge in with me, McCree?” 

Jesse’s toothy grin down at him, the way he squeezes his hand, and how he scratches at the back of his head with the other hand are answer enough. Hanzo lets McCree lead the two of them off towards the dorm areas, their hands laced together tightly. The fondness that wells up within him at the feel of his hand in his is a different type of warmth than the sexual fire that Jesse can ignite in him without even trying, and far different than the sharp heat that he gets from nursing a cigarette. It’s a warmth Hanzo likes far more than any of the others he finds himself indulging in, day in and day out, this is something he could  _ definitely  _ get used to.

Perhaps this thing he has going on with Jesse isn’t such a bad habit after all. 

**Author's Note:**

> Ive been mega depressed and have had difficulty writing or doing anything i love so im glad i managed to finish something hope it's good for y'all


End file.
